Dripping With Sin
by blindmad
Summary: Please review/leave your advice on how I could improve my story. This is narrated by troubled Harleen Quinzel. The Joker takes a gullible young Harley under his crippled wing. This is my first story
1. Welcome Home

I stood beside the window in my small assigned room, fingers smearing against the glass, longing to be outside in the overcast humidity.  
It was my 5th day in the psychiatric hospital and I was still on suicide watch.

I'm still shocked that this didn't happen earlier. I've been self-destructive for a few years now. No one cared until now. I'm more suprised at the fact that they do even care. Its not like I'm a good person or anything. When I decided to end it all, they caught me in the act and made me seek treatment. Treatment for the drug abuse, scars, and most importantly my mental state.  
I haven't been so good to myself. I guess little Miss Princess grew up to be a basket case.  
Just like my mother.  
I wonder if she's still living. I havent spoken to her for many years.  
It would be better if the bitch was six feet under anyway.  
Birds were scampering around in the empty parking lot, around the benches, public phones, and the ash trays.  
Ash tray.  
Oh, what I'd give for a drag. They wont let me have my cigs because of the circular burn on my forearm. I told them it was an accident, which it truly was,  
but you know nurses and their suspicions... I stared down at my cornflower blue hospital scrubs they gave me to wear because no one had the decency to bring me my own clothes.  
Cornflower fuckin blue. How I despise that color.  
The hospital bracelet is so damn itchy. Why can't I have one sense of security here?  
It says in big bold letters: QUINZEL, HARLEEN. It should say: MISTAKE, BIG.  
They wont let me take it off until I'm "discharged". Free at last...

BOOM.

My body was slammed against the wall. The 3 inch thick window shattered and some pieces became lodged into my left leg. After the dust from the drywall cleared, I made my way to see what the hell just happened. Down the hallway was an enormous gaping hole which could lead to my liberation.  
My leg wouldn't cooperate so I crept along the wall. I saw the nurse, Brandy I think, lying on the floor with blood soaking the front of her uniform. Her brightly painted acrylic nails still clutched the phone. Eyes wide open. Other patients and workers lay under piles of debris. Some, I noticed, were killed on impact from the blast.  
I had to be out of there as fast as possible before the police arrived. I felt the breeze as I made my way to the hole in the wall. Despite the blood loss and destruction, I smiled for the first time in a long while because I was free. Once I got outside, I turned around and saw the doctor who treated me: his entrails were smeared against the dark grey carpet. "Ya can't take my money now, huh?" I told him in a sing-song voice. I spat on him and struggled out of the prison-like atmoshpere.  
I crawled into a nearby alley to stop and pick the glass out of my leg. My blood trickled down to my ankles as I discarded the painful shards.  
I knew I was losing a lot of blood. I was also very exhausted from lack of sleep and feeling faint.  
I had no choice but to call for help. "Somebody, please, hello? I need help! Please! Help me, help me..."  
I began to lose consciousness.  
I feel burly hairy arms pick me up and carry me. I hear voices talking. Men. "We're going to have plenty of fun with this one, fellas." That was followed by a maniacal laugh.  
A-HAHAAAHAAAHAAHAHAHAHAHAA...

* * *

I woke up chained to a pipe and lying on a makeshift cot for a bed. I was in some kind of cellar. It was pretty dark except for a single light bulb above my head and from under the door about ten feet in front of me.  
Here comes the pain.  
"Oh my god this burns! Help! Please, somebody, help me!!!"  
I quickly glanced down to my injury to see that someone had bandaged and cleaned my wounds.  
Loud echoing footsteps came from the other side of the metal door.  
Keys clacked against the lock, opening the door revealing a dark figure that stood at a little over six feet tall.  
His face was hidden from me. The loud purple suit, the designer shoes, the wet slicked back hair.  
Was he a pimp or something?  
"Oh my god! Where the fuck am I? Let me go please..." My voice cracked from being so nervous.  
"Harleen, do you know who I am?"  
The devil in the flesh.  
"I.."  
The Joker stepped into the light to reveal a mutilated mouth, yellow teeth, and smeared makeup.  
Scars.  
We had something in common.  
"Please dont hurt me!" I began to cry like a child. I havent cried in ages. i forced my gaze towards my lap. His scars reminded me of the pain I tried to put behind me.  
" Harleen Quinzel, former psychiatrist, huh? Well what happened?"  
I whimpered as I tried to hold beack the tears.  
"How does the doctor turn into a patient? Look at me, quinzel!"  
I stared at the point between his eyes, to make him think I was looking at him directly. "You see, Harl, we're not so different. You're crazy. I'm a bit crazy. We loons gotta stick together. How bout i make ya a deal, huh?"  
He grabbed my jaw, pulled it towards his face, took the knife out of his pocket and placed it to my throat. He licked his lips and looked at me with those piercing eyes that could see through a stone wall. "You help me out by making Gotham a 'better' place for people like us. And I can keep you out of the hospital, police station, etc etc. You see, it's my way of contributing to society, huh? Good nough for you?"  
He pressed the blade against my flesh, almost breaking skin.. i stutter and tears fall onto the blade.  
"HMMM?"  
"Y-yes...", was all I could manage to get out.  
He jerked my jaw bone up and down. His nostrils flared and he was breathing heavily.  
Joker placed the blade on his tongue, wiping the tears away with his mouth. "I'll be seeing you around Harleen."  
He stood up and walked to the door.  
"Can you unchain me now??" I pleaded.  
He paid no attention and slammed the door behind him.  
I'm so dead.

* * *

"Get up"  
I rub my eyes to see tall henchman wheeling in piles of cash.  
They unchain me and push me out of the way.  
Money was being piled up to the ceiling.  
I stood in awe with my mouth gaped wide open. Maybe working for the Clown Prince of Crime wasn't so bad.  
They began dousing the currency in lighter fluid.  
"Wait what are you doing?" I shouted. "Are you fucking kidding me?! Stop it!"  
I was grabbed from behind and dragged out of the room, then out of the house. All the henchman followed out into a large black SUV. Joker just stood from a distance and watched, he was still clutching my hand to the point of losing circulation.  
They threw in a lighted bottle and set the building on fire.  
"ARE YOU CRAZY!?!" I screamed. I lost the ability to speak. Who would set millions of dollars ablaze like that? Joker lost interest and shrugged. I followed behind, dumbfounded as ever. He jumped into a black van and pulled me into the back seat.  
He began to whistle a song no one else knew but him. I couldnt help but stare at him. His scars were different than mine. He was still attractive with or without them.  
"Wanna know how I got these scars?" he asked. It seemed to excite him. I quickly glanced back down. I'm still wearing my hospital scrubs, I noted.  
"can I go to my apartment and grab my clothes?" I asked, still staring at my bare feet. Joker signaled to the driver to turn at the light. "Don't you want to know where I live?"  
"I already know, kid." he seemed annoyed already.  
"You know where I live? You've been following me home?"  
"Following you home, going through your stuff, watching you sleep..." He flashed me that wild grin that literally stretched from ear to ear.  
I moaned. I feel so violated.  
"By the way, the whole suicide thing is so juvenile."  
I looked up and felt my eyes dialate.  
"You want something done, You've got to do it right. I personally prefer knives because you get to see all the little emotions come out."  
He talked with his hands, waving them in every which direction. I could feel the blood rushing to my face. I was a suicidal failure in his eyes.  
"How did you--?" I stuttered.  
"Ya see kid, I know pretty much everything about you. From the unnecessary pill-popping to the poor little act of burning yourself for attention..."  
"SHUT UP!," I slapped the clown, "If you knew anything about me, you'd know why that happens! I thought you of all people would understand."  
He grabbed me by the arms and slid the knife out of his pocket. "We have ourselves a fiesty one, boys! Another move like that, i rip out your jugular and watch you squirm." He had that crazy look in his eyes again. I followed his orders for the time being.  
They pulled up to my building. I limped out of the car, the boss following close behind. Once we entered my apartment, I made my way to my room, shutting and locking the door behind me. I pulled on my jeans and a t-shirt followed by my black jacket and boots. I grabbed some more clothes and shoved them all into a bag. I lit up a cigarette and savored it.  
I sat on my bed watching the smoke rise towards the ceiling.  
Soon I heard the smoke alarm go off in the other room. A gunshot fired and the smoke alarm was no more.  
I suppose thats one way to do it.  
I turned my head and saw the bottle of xanax still on the floor from 6 days ago. It was almost empty. I didnt take all of it.  
I figured it could do the job. I guess we don't always get what we want. I sat up and extinguished the cigarette in the ash tray on my nightstand.  
I opened my door to see the Joker sitting on my couch with his feet perched on my crappy flea market coffee table. He was reading a book on World War II. I had loads of those sorts of books.  
"Ready for a history lesson?" I asked.  
He turned his head and stared at me for a few moments with those beautiful eyes of his.  
"I'm taking some of these." he said, meanwhile grabbing my books on D-Day, Auschwitz, and Nazi Germany. "They'll give me some inspiration." he burst out laughing hysterically, caught up in his own jokes.  
I turned and stared at myself in the mirror on the wall. I wasnt admiring myself but I wasnt critiquing either. I was average weight and height. I had long platinum blonde hair and blue eyes that were surrounded by dark purple circles from lack of sleep. I was very pale. And still too many scars, I thought.  
I felt two gloved hands touch my shoulders. I turned to see Joker. He gently took my arm and lifted up the jacket sleeve to see the burn marks on my arm.  
"We do have a lot in common, you and I." I looked up at him. We had some kind of staring contest for a few moments. He ran his finger over my scars. He whispered,

"Everyone needs a partner in crime."


	2. Partners

We returned to the parked SUV. I buckled my seat belt and looked out the window as the car began to move to the next destination.  
"Where are we going?" I asked He laughed maniacally again as if it was an inside joke I didnt know about. He looked me up and down, licking his scars.  
We pulled up towards a warehouse that was already ocupied by Jokers thugs. I quickly got out of the van, took the box of French cigarettes out of my bag ,  
and lit one up. I took a deep long drag and watched the smoke disappear. Joker jerked my arm and pulled me towards the building "Stop fucking around Harley!" he demanded. My boss ordered two of his thugs to escort me to my room. They held my wrists tight making sure I couldn't escape. I kept my eyes down because they were beggining to swell with tears.  
I walked down the concrete hallways, feeling like a criminal (even though I was surrounded by them.  
I guess I am a criminal. I've stolen drugs, gotten into fights, escaped the hospital... I guess thats why the boss hired me.  
I entered my room, crying hysterically and screaming. I banged my fists on the walls until my knuckles began to bleed. i fell to my knees.  
I was a prisoner in this concrete hell.  
I needed a hit of something to ease my nerves. Thats how I got hooked anyway.  
Heavy footsteps sounded in the hall, and I looked up as the crazed-clown walked into my room, a smile on his face.  
"Nervous breakdown anyone?" he always had to crack a joke. He giggled despite my condition.  
"Care to help a poor little girl?" I said trying to hide my episode.

He passed me the beer and I eagerly accepted. I took a sip and said to him, "How'd you wind up like this, huh?"  
"You mean the scars?" he asked, ready to tell his story.  
"No, I mean psychopathic killer." I said twirling a strand of blond hair.  
"You should know. you're the fucking psychiatrist."  
"EX-psychiatrist! That's not for me anymore." i quickly corrected him.  
"Yeah, well pops didnt love me much. Does that answer your fucking question, cupcake?"  
"Your dad and my mom should go bowling." i chuckled hazily. "Why? Did mommy touch you in your special place?" he said sarcastically, while lighting up a cigarette.  
" Nah, she beat me up for a few years til I had reached my breaking point."  
"Let me offer you...a bit of advice, dear Harleen..."  
I tilted my head near to Joker's matted, green hair.  
"Welcome to reality, puddin." his disfigured face near mine. We locked eyes once more. He leaned in ever so close. I felt myself blushing.  
I began to lean closer and closer to the scars, barely brushing against him.  
All of a sudden, he unleashed a cloud of smoke into my face. He fell back in hs chair, howling his insane laughter.  
He never fails to impress me. 


	3. Jagged Little Pill

"Oh, Jesus Christ..."  
My head was aching from the enormous hangover.  
_Oh, god, why did I drink so much?_ I stared at the clock on my wall that read 5:43. It was the longest I had slept in years. I flopped down onto the purple bed that Joker had provided for me. He was so kind to furnish my room. Well, 'kind' is sort of stretching the truth. He has tried to kill me on more than one occaision, you know. My head was pounding and every sound would pulse and sting my brain. I examined the new furniture as I began to store my clothes. There was a small oak nightstand with my wardrobe stored inside, a queen sized bed, and a dresser complete with my own vanity mirror. I smiled, despite the raging headaches, as I thought to myself. As crazy as it sounds, I am beginning to feel safe here with the Joker. I can't say that it was different from any other lifestyle I have lived. As a child, I grew up with a schizophrenic mother who was convinced that I was the devil and who abused me everyday. Later, as an adult, I studied and conversed with bloodthirsty murderers, rapists, and theives. Until, I made a little slip. Working with all the high-class criminals seemed to bring up new memories of my childhood. I remember talking to a criminal in Arkham named Victor Hoffman. He was a pedophile who also beat and tortured children. I still hear him describing every single detail of how he defiled these innocent beings. It reminded me of my mother. When I was misbehaving or being a "bad girl" my mother would place my hand on the scorching stove for at least five long seconds. That's why I don't have fingerprints anymore. Literally speaking, my mother stole from me what made me unique from everyone else, my fingerprints,  
my identity. Those resented memories guided me on a path to self destruction. I started getting into drugs because it made me feel like I could forget about my problems.  
I did quit eventually because I entered rehab for the typical seventy day program they offer in inner-city Gotham. Hey, at least they have free coffee, right? However I had discovered a better alternative, or so it seemed. I began taking my lighter and burning a circular wound into my flesh. It lasted longer than drugs. But it came with consequences: the scars will be with me until death. Somewhere along the way, I got fired from my job at Arkham for showing agressive behavior and not doing my job correctly. That's when I decided to take it a step further. It was a rainy day and I was feeling especially fucked when I got the eviction notice. I found a bottle of Xanax in a cabinet and swallowed about half of it. I didn't even bother writing a note. I had no one to write it to anyway. The next thing I know, I'm in a white,  
sterile hospital room with a nurse adjusting my IV. She informed me that I had just had my stomach pumped. The doctor came in to suggest that I seek psychiatric help at a local mental facility called Center Wood. I allowed it because I was still pretty sedated. Somehow, throught all of that turmoil, I ended up here in a warehouse filled to the brim with murderous villians. And yet I was at ease despite the Joker living next door. It dawned on me that I was unsure of what I should address him as.  
I don't think anyone knows his real name anyway. His nickname will be Mr. J for now. It suited him well. I walked out of my room in my old Led Zeppelin t-shirt and a pair of faded plaid shorts. I didn't have to dress up for the boys, anyway. I headed towards the door. Not to escape, just for a smoke. Giant gorilla-like hands grasped my ponytail which made me let out a high pitched shriek. I quickly spun around to see a huge 6 foot man who looked like he used to be a pro-wrestler. "Hey what the hell?!" "You are not allowed to exit the building." Another one of his minions, I presume. His voice is very grisly, not like Mr. J's though.  
"But I--"  
He dragged me towards my room, with me struggling to be released. He pushed me into my room and slammed the door in my face. Son of a bitch.  
I shrugged and flicked my lighter, watching the flame set fire to the end of my Marlboro red. I sat down at my vanity table, looking at my face in the mirror. It needs some kind of adjustment. I picked up a blood red lipstick and neatly filled in my lips. The color suited me especially with my fair complexion. I swiped three coats of mascara onto my lashes until they where thicker than ever. I looked different than before but still something was missing. It was the interior that needed fixing,  
not the exterior. I lunged for my small nightstand. In its cabinets, I stored a bottle of pills underneath the pile of clothes. I couldn't pronounce the name of the medication but all I know is that it will make this emptiness leave me, temporarily that is. I swallowed two of the little "happy pills". I began to feel like I was being anchored towards the floor. I giggled because I could feel it working. Blondes do have more fun.  
I struggled to walk normally to the door. As soon as I made it past the door, I began to slip. I clutched onto the door frame like I was holding on for dear life. I looked around the room. "W-where's the thing that I saw? It was over there the...." I trailed off. I was mumbling to myself. The meds usually put me through states of mania. I got in jail for going in public offending bystanders while on an overdose of medication that I had stolen from a pharmacy. I began yelling and bossing around Joker's thugs. "This place is so fucking dirty! Well don't just sit on your asses all day people! Let's get the goddamn show on the road, here!" It was odd to see a little girl ordering around these six foot tall monsters. They just laughed at me because they could tell I was on substance.  
"I got to..got to...g-give me the mop"  
Two gloved hands entwined around my neck from out of nowhere. I tried to scream for help. This was no hallucination. A familiar blade was pressed against my cheekbone, running down my porcelian flesh. Blood began to seep from my wound. I was tossed on the floor like a rag doll and looked up to view my attacker.  
It was the same disfigured killer in a purple suit that I had been staying with for about two weeks now. He didn't look like himself: his makeup was smeared and creasing in every direction and I could sense the tension in the air. I began pleading with him.  
"Oh, no please. I-I-I..."  
He swooped down so he could see eye-to-eye with me. I flinched as he caressed my bleeding face. He studied my running mascara and smudged lipstick. I looked like I had been taking makeup tips from him.  
"Give me the bottle, Harley!" He spat.  
I slowly handed him the container of green pills. Joker surged upward, slammed the medicine against the wall, then crused the remainders into dust. His anger shone through in his stamina. J pointed his blade at me, shaking his head. He turned to exit the main room where I had caused a scene, when I stopped him with a cry of "Please don't go..." His heavy breathing began to slow as he looked me in the eyes. "Go to your room, Harleen. Compose yourself."  
He returned to his wing of the warehouse to attend to whatever buisness he had. It occured to me that he was probably just getting wasted and ordering the usual prostitute or two.  
The boys in the house get lonely and have the usual slut come over. I would just stay in my room, isolating myself with that beautiful tranparent orange bottle with the names on its side. Now, since Mr. J took away one of my life's pleasures, I will probably jump off a building. The only problem is that I can't fucking escape this place in order to jump off said building. I slammed down my fists and screamed. I am stuck in this prison forever, it seems. I thought he was better than that.  
First, my mother, now J was leaving me too. _Crying won't help me leave_, I thought. I held the tears back as I walked to my little prison cell. I heard a clamorous uproar coming from somewhere behind the entrance to Joker's corridors. Mr. J's laughter resonated throughout the entire building. Bottles were breaking and gunshots were fired.  
"That's what happens when you don't share! A-HAHAAHAAAHAHAHAAA..."  
His voice was so entrancing. It was like listening to a British accent: you could listen to it all day...Oh, what am I thinking? He's nothing but a sadistic, manipulative bastard.  
I entered my room with my mouth gaped open wide. On my mirror, it read "I'm borrowing your lipstick -J" in my burgundy lip stain. On my dresser was a red rose.  
As I sniffed its ripe petals, a thorn penetrated my finger. I looked to see a small pool of blood forming on my thumb.  
"All good things must come to an end."


	4. Wandering Child

_"Wandering Child so lost, so helpless. __Yearning for my guidance."  
-"Wandering Child" from The Phantom of the Opera_

I stayed up all through the night, attending to the battle scar Mr. J had bestowed upon my milky skin. I couldn't possibly make a tourniquet so I just used all of my sheets to clot the immense flow of blood. My room looked like the Texas Chainsaw Massacre had taken place there. The blood loss began to make me feel dizzy once again. It was about four o' clock in the morning so I decided to pay the Joker, or the "Slave driver" as I call him when he's not around, a visit. I didn't have anyone else to turn to in this war camp so I began to instill trust in J. I snuck out of my room, down the hall, to the right, and found myself infront of his wing of the warehouse. The entrance was two thick, colassal doors, guarded by a pair of Joker's heavyset henchmen who were in a deep sleep. Both of them reeked of booze and cigar smoke.  
I usually didn't have this kind of luck, so I silently tiptoed past the giants and entered through the double doors. I began to search for my employer through the maze of cement cubicles.

"Oh, Mistah J? Where are you?" I called.

I came arcoss a pathway which led to a large door with a "Do Not Disturb" doorhanger on the handle. I opened it to find J pacing back in forth with one of my World War II books on Adolf Hitler in hand. He stopped dead in his tracks and his eyes widened at the sight of me.

"How the fuck did you get in here, you fucking little cunt?" He yelled, charging towards me.

"I can't stop bleeding..." I pointed to my face, "I need stitches. It's already infected."

I began to turn because I could tell I would probably get knived again.  
He raced to the door and shook me by the shoulders, violently. He slapped my face without too much force.

"How'd you get in here? Who the fuck let you in?"

"I need help! Please!"

Tears were forming from all the pain that was caused by him touching the wound. I began to scream.

"Look at my face! I'm not okay!".

Poor choice of words, Harley.  
He caught me by the jaw and looked at me with those mad, bloodshot eyes.

"Your face?! How would you like this face instead, puddin?!"

He slammed me against the wall causing my blood to spirt from my contusion. I fell to the carpeted floor and started to howl in pain. He rolled his eyes and grabbed the needle from a syringe on his desk. What was the syringe for?

"Hold it!" He ordered while handing me the needle.

He petrified me so I obeyed like an abused dog to his master. He stormed into his bathroom, coattail flowing behind him. I cradled my head in my hands to prevent the fluids from spilling onto his carpet. My blood had already marked his wall anyway. Joker returned seconds later and knelt down to face me.

"Hold still."

He tied the thread around the needle and penatrated it near my cut. I winced from the pain that surged through me.

"Shush, Harleen. Can you stay still for your dear old Mr. Bossman?" He asked.

He threaded the needle with ease and priscsion. He obviously made all of his clothes so pigs couldn't get ahold of his credit card number. Mr. J bit off the excess thread.

"There. All is well."

He patted my head and motioned me towards the door. I refused by heading towards his desk and picking up the syringe that Joker took the needle from.

"What's this for?" I asked with one eyebrow raised.

"That's not important. What matters is that you get the fuck out of my wing and back into your own!" He demanded.

"You really think I'm that stupid? I know what heroin is, Joker. I've lived with junkies all my life."

"So I had some friends over last night and one thing lead to the other..." He chuckled.

"Yeah, I heard." I grumbled.

"Think of it as...leftovers." He suggested. "You're still a child anyway, there's much more for you to endure out there..."

While he was busy rambling about my inexperiences, I searched through my books he took from my apartment on his desk, looking for a decent read. I scrambled through the hardback covers until something caught my eye: a book on prisoners of war. This suited me and my situation perfectly. As I picked it up, underneath it lay a pile of my personal belongings.

"What the fuck?!" I screamed.

I picked through my driver's license, birth certificate, hospital records, and photographs of me taken by hidden photographers. "  
How'd you--??" I was too dumbfounded to speak. My mouth gaped open as I gazed upon the records and keepings of my existence.

"You see Harl, when I pick future employees I have to do a bit of research first." He licked his deep red scars as he twirled a strand of my platinum hair.

"This is impossible..."

I continued to look through the files and came upon a picture of me as a child, surrounded by my dad and mother. It was very posed and fake:  
our smiles were too over-exagerated. We couldn't face the fact that we were dysfunctional so we took shitty pictures to try to prove that we weren't. Typical American family portrait. I stared at us for a short period of time and ripped the paper to shreads, throwing it up into the air like rice at a wedding.

"What are you doing?!" Joker took me by the shoulders and spun me around to face him.

"Sometimes the past just isn't worth remembering." I said while fighting back tears. I pressed my face against his chest, leaving teardrops on his button-down shirt.  
I wrapped my arms around his waist and began to sob. He allowed the hug. I'm not sure why though. Why would he take pity on such an easy target? He never did hug me back though. I began to gasp for air as I tried to speak to J.

"I never got the chance to say...thank you." I said while looking at Joker's disfigurement that was bestowed upon his face.

He exhaled deeply then pushed me away. With one hand on my shoulder, he shooed me to my room.

"You know, kid. I'm starting to see a lot of my younger self in you." He confessed.

I didn't turn back to face him as I left. I ran towards the exit in a frenzied state. I was absolutly fear-stricken of Joker but at times, I felt like I could confide in the homicidal maniac. I don't understand how I could possibly relate to him, like he said. He was practically inhuman. Despite that, I thought of him that night, right before I fell asleep. Maybe if I stayed here long enough, I could learn to treat his behaviour and fix Joker so he could interact with society as a normally-functioning human being.

The more and more I thought that night maybe it was _me_ that needed the fixing all along.


	5. Dirt

_"Who wants to live forever?" --QUEEN_

* * *

"Wakey wakey, Harley..."

My tired eyes fluttered open to see the scarred, cunning hooligan sitting at the foot of my bed, eating a grilled cheese sandwich.

"Well now I've seen everything." I groaned as I turned over to fall back asleep.

"Ah, ah, ah!" He protested and ripped the sheets of the bed. "Today, we have to go on a little buisness trip, Harls. It's time to get prepared for the big show!"

He stood proudly with an intense look on his face, with all of his teeth revealed in an enormous smile.

"A show? W-what show?" I drowisily questioned.

"Harley, darling, today I make my debut into Gotham once more! Since I've been somewhat underground, I figured a little excitement would do them some good.  
Maybe even make front page news, huh? Nothing can go wrong for me this time and I will need some assistance from you, Harleen."

"Why didn't anyone tell me about this? What do you need me to do?" I asked, while getting out of bed.

He leaned in close and pointed his finger at my nose. "Whatever Mr. Bossman says, goes. Understood?"

I nodded slightly, while biting my lower lip. He shoved down the last of his sandwich, rushed out the door and slammed it shut. I sighedas Irubbed my aching head,  
then made my way to my dresser to find a decent outfit for today's adventure. I was dressed way too casual for a buisness trip. I pulled on my black jeans and boots.  
I leaned over to pick up my trenchcoat off of my concrete flooring and slipped it over my black tank top. I didn't even bother to do my makeup today. My face was flushed from the hours of crying and the whites of my eyes were streaked with little red veins. I pulled the ponytail holder out of my hair, letting it fall over my shoulders and down my back.

A henchman popped his head in my room and ordered, "Hey, get a move on will ya'?".

"Jesus Christ, I'm coming!" I hollered.

I grumbled and flew out the door. The same henchman seized my wrist and dragged me to the exit. I struggled to escape his grip and glared at the stooge when he refused to let go. We ran out of the door and I was pushed into the same SUV I had been kidnapped in. There sitting next to me once again was J, laughing like a fucking hyena.

"You clean up good." He said in his throaty voice, meanwhile licking his lips. "Let me see the stitches."

I complied by leaning my head towards him. Joker took his gloved hand and gently brushed strands of my long hair behind my ear. He took my head into his calloused hands and softly blew onto my wound, making me shiver all over my body.

"Air will help it to clot. Unfortunatley, the scarred tissue will not disapear. It's a damn shame, too...such a pretty face." J hissed as he blew his hot breath onto my face.

Fixated on him, I sat there staring with wide intrigued eyes. My heart pounded in my chest so loudly for everyone to hear. Joker extended his arm around my shoulders and smiled.

"Harley, today you begin your new line of work! Just to play it safe, you will need a bit of a disguise. The police are still looking for you because they did not find your body in the ruins of Center Wood Hospital. You have to wear this at all times, understood?" Mr. J said firmly.

He handed me a thin, black mask with too holes for me to see out of. I secured it on my face tightly, covering up the stitches.

"It's not much," he sighed, "but it will do for now."

"What's going to happen?" I asked. My voice was beginning to crack from being so nervous.

"Harleen, have you ever killed anyone before?" He said while staring out of the heavily tinted windows.

"Umm...no." I softly replied.

"Hmm, that's unfortunate." He cooed. "Oh, and you will be needing this as well." He handed me a nine millimeter gun from under his seat, your typical mafia weapon.

I felt my throat constrict and my palms sweat as I held the cold device in my delicate white fingers. I studied the barrel, the trigger, and its black exterior. I cringed as I imagined all the damage this could cause.

"Listen good, Harl. Your job is to block off the intersection of King Boulevard and Waid Street with the car. Don't let anyone get in your precious little way." He said while cradling my face. "Once you have successfully done that, get out of the car immeadiately! This is supposed to occur as fast as possible because we don't want too many pigs on the scene. After you are out, get to the upstairs balcony of the building to your left. The boys will be expecting you there. When the nearest cop car comes into view, fire at once! I'm sure a woman of your capability can handle that, no?"

He took hold of my chin, making it move in a nodding motion.

"Well now that we understand eachother..."

Out of nowhere the car came to an uprupt halt, flinging my petite body into the seat in front of me.

"Good luck, kid!" He laughed as he slammed the passenger door shut and ran off with his henchmen to set the plan into motion.

All of a sudden, it dawned on me to act fast. I sprung into the driver's seat and put the car in drive. I knew exactly where the intersection was, for I had passed through it on the way to Arkham when I had my job as a phychiatrist. I made a left onto Waid Street, then carefully parallel-parked in the middle of the street,  
making it impossible for any vehicle to pass. As I leaped out of the car, other black SUVs pulled on the west and east sides of the intersection, leaving one entrance.  
It all started to come together. I ran into the abandoned pub with gun in hand. I began to hear sirens in the distance while I raced up the creaky staircase. I found myself on a large wrap-around balcony with about seven other men in clown masks, ready to fire. I checked to see if the safety on my gun was on then I found a perch on the balcony railing so I wouldn't have to haul it around. The sirens were getting closer. I was drowning in the sounds of nearby police, my throbbing heartbeat,  
and the uneasy breathing of everyone around me. Beads of sweat formed on my forehead and my knees grew weak. A familiar voice echoed throughout the atmosphere:  
the uncontrollable laughing and deep scratchy vocals. He was coaxing them towards us to finish them off. The three police cars were being stalked by Joker's league of minions in jet black vehicles. Shots were being fired back and forth in a hail of bullets. One policeman went down, causing the car to swerve into a nearby laundromat and kill many other civilians. We had them captured with nowhere to turn.

They're coming closer, I thought to myself. Just fire and it will be over.

My fingers fumbled with the trigger. The nearest car approached like a bat out of hell. I squeezed my eyes shut as the bullets exploded out of the barrel, into the windshield of the pig's car, killing him instantly. Gunshots drizzed from the balcony like snowflakes in a blizzard. The two automobiles smashed into the parked SUV causing them to come to a complete stop. Thunder erupted in the sky while rain poured onto the crime scene. I looked to the sky to see that unholy bat signal coming from the roof of the police building.

"Goddammit!" I cursed.

The cars burst into fire while the smell of gasoline and rubber lingered in our noses. Night engulfed the last bit of sunlight in the Gotham skyline. I put down my weapon,  
descended down the stairway, and absorbed in the scene of injustice that I took part in creating. Speeding down the asphalt came the Caped Crusader himself,  
the Batman. Mr. J stepped out of his van with disgust on his face. In his hands, he wielded the large dagger that he branded my face with. In a split second, J cast out a small blinking device which captured Batman in an entanglement of mesh nets. The rather large, pugdy Batman struggled and tried to fight his way out of the mess. Mr. J bellowed his low chuckle as he held the knife to his hostage.

"SO YOU WANNA PLAY WITH THE BIG BOYS, HUH?! ANSWER ME!" Mr. J spat.

The frightened man whimpered and shook his head.

"WHERE'S THE REAL BAT?!" Joker spew out a slur of profanity, damning the poor imposter. "HARLEEEEEEEY!"

I exited the daze I was in and ran to Joker's side.

"Yes, sir?" I asked nervously.

"Harley, remember what I said to you in the car 'Have you ever killed anyone'? Now it's your time to shine, kiddo."

He handed me his weapon and said, "Be careful with this one. She's an old thing." referring to he dagger.

I hesitated and stood there staring at the unfortunate man, shaking on the concrete with tears streaming down his cheeks. He murmured things about his family. He silently told his wife how much he had always loved and cherished her even if she didn't believe it. He said his farewells to his two little children. The ill-fated man began to pray to his God. Gazing up at the stars, he begged God for assitstance. I burst into tears with him. I couldn't just kill him when this man had a family who needed him the most. If I killed him now, I would lead his children on the same fucking path that I'm on. Joker's hot breath trailed on my neck as the knife was still clenched in my clammy fist.

"Harley, think of all those who have wronged you in your life. Your mother, your friends, the doctors. This is your chance to start living something real, something pure.  
This may be your only chance..."

The knife penetrated the warm flesh as a shock was sent through the man's body. Blood gushed from the man's chest and onto my albino skin. I screamed from all the pressure, guilt, and anger that surged through me. The man's face twisted into a vision of absolute misery and suffering while he exhaled his last breath of life into the night.  
Joker patted my back and congratulated me with a grin on his face. I collapsed onto the ground and rolled in the dirt because that's all I amounted to anymore. I am dirt.  
J whisked me up onto my feet and walked me to a few streets over, where he hailed a taxi. He lended me his coat so the driver wouldn't see the blood I was doused in.  
I cried in Joker's arms but he just laughed at me.

"Harley, you're being ridiculous. It's no big fucking deal." He declared, annoyed with my sorrow. "Jesus Christ, women!" He said to the cab driver.

Joker made him pull over at least two blocks away from his hideout, paid for the ride, and managed to get out of the car with me still clinging to his arm, sobbing.  
J walked me to my room in the warehouse and set me down on the foot of my bed, unfurling my fingers off of his arm.

"Listen, Harley, this was all part of the deal, remember? If you want to stay off the streets, you've got to get a little down and dirty."

"I killed a person today! Do you understand what that means?! He prayed for mercy but there was no one to give it to him." I yelled as tears came running down my face, "I could have saved a person. But I just had to fuck something else up, didn't I?"

"You'll do better next time..." Joker said as he turned to the door.

"Next time? I don't want there to be a next time." I shakily replied.

"Yeah? Then GET OUT." He snarled and slammed the door shut.

I crawled under the covers on my bed and noisly cried. I realized that Joker had placed the knife I used to kill the man with on my vanity table top. I held the knife in my hand, as a twisted idea came into my mind. I lifted up my sleeve and began to work. My skin was a canvas for the art I would create. I winced as the pain echoed through my exhausted body. When I had finished, my left upper arm had a new carving engraved upon it.

Etched in blood and flesh, it read: DIRT.

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Special thanks to Britt(EverythingBurnz) my TDK buddy who gave me the idea for this chapter during a horrific case of writer's block. Hope you all enjoy this chapter and please please please review for my sake! It would mean the world to me :)


	6. Stay

"It can't rain all the time."  
- Brandon Lee, The Crow

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Day and night have become intwined with eachother. I have lost track of the days. For all I know it could have been days, weeks, or even months since I had my first encounter with the Joker. He has evolved into another one of my little obsessions. I'm just a moth to his flame. I'm addicted to his presence because I have been alone for far too long. However, I put my occupation behind me because I'm already in the inner circle of Gotham's most notorious villian and I don't plan on leaving anytime soon. Mister J has arranged a meeting tonight in his "conference room". That was in Joker's wing of the building and I have never been invited there before. They use it as a place to scheme and plan out ways to destroy and demoralize Gotham, make explosives (a personal hobby of Mistah J's), and to propose endless attempts at eliminating the Batman which haven't suceeded...yet. I spritzed a bit of perfume on my neck and hair. I wanted to show Joker that I'm not some naive punk from off the street. I am twenty-four years of age but he still calls me 'kiddo'. Hell, I had killed a person, a living being, and he still thought of me as a child.

"I said to meet in the conference room, not the fucking palace, kid." He said, nodding towards my tabletop filled with eyeshadows, lipsticks, and mascaras.

I cast my gaze away from my vanity mirror and looked into his distant bloodshot eyes.  
Mr. J cast me a questionable glance, turned away from me, then galliantly strode down the hallway; me following him in my noisy black pumps. He walked with absolute confidence: narcissistic even. I envied his arrogance. I always wanted a bigger amount of self esteem than the quantity I was given. He took me by the wrist and lead me into his corridor. It wasn't what I expected. I was hoping for a elegantly furnished residence but instead I got a modern dungeon: typical male behavior. I quietly chuckled at the thought while Joker escorted me to his room. We passed dozens of small concrete rooms inhabited by Joker's minions; some overlooking blueprints of high security buildings in Gotham, some having lewd conversations about the many posters of barely dressed women that hung from the walls of their cramped cubicles, but most were just getting stoned out of their minds from the everlasting supply of weed. I quickly took shelter inside Mr. J's conference room and sat down at the large table, legs neatly crossed. Joker stood in the doorway, eyeing me from head to toe. He obviously noticed my snug black dress that hit just above my knees, curled platinum blonde hair, and flawless makeup. He licked his upper lip then bit down on his lower lip.

"Is that a knife in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" I figured I could make the jokes once in a while.

"We'll find out." He said while sitting a huge distance away from me on the opposite end of the table.

An awkward silence ensued.

"Is there something you'd like to tell me, boss?" I asked innocently, gently batting my long lashes.

"Shush.." he silenced me "Just let me look at you."

I stared into my lap, humbled but a bit frightened at the comment. I couldn't take it any longer. I can't keep all these questions internal for so long.

"Why did you choose m-me?" I asked, choking on my question.

His eyes bulged out of his sockets and his knuckles gripped the table.

"You weren't chosen. Don't flatter yourself." He snickered at my stupid remark.

"But if you were following me and watching me..." My head was drowning in questions "You said you wanted me to work for you. Since I have been here, I can't do anything unless I end up killing someone in the process! I can't even go outside for a smoke! Now my room smells like a fucking meth lab!" I flung out of my chair and banged my fists.

"I can't do anything by myself! I can't have interaction with anyone except for you and your dumbass soldiers! I-I'm stuck in my room all the time with myself and frankly, I'm not a very entertaining person! I have only been out one goddamn time! And I'll tell you what, I haven't seen sunlight for th-"

"WILL YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP?"

He launched himself out of his chair, raced across the wooden table, and pinned me to the ground, both of his legs around me so I couldn't escape.  
He slapped me across the face, leaving an imprint of his hand on my white cheek. The Joker pulled a dagger out of his pocket and began ripping the straps of my dress. His murderous laughter echoed throughout the room. He seized my collarbone and pulled me close, both our chests heaving against eachother from the tension. He began to grip my throat, squeezing tighter and tighter until...he let go.  
Joker looked at me with a grief-stricken pain inside his hypnotizing eyes. He laid his head against my throbbing bosom, mumbling to himself in a schitzophrenic-like state. I began to choke and gasp for air. The tears burned my eyes as they cascaded down my face.

"Why didn't you just kill me?" I asked. "It would make things easier for the both of us!" I noisily sobbed as I rubbed the burgundy lipstick off my mouth.  
"Go ahead and fucking kill me! Make my day!"

I rested there on the floor, still held down by my boss, and tried to catch my breath. He stared at the floor, still pressed against my torso, with a glazed over look in his eyes. He slowly rose above me and leered at my face. He gradually descended closer to my lips and gently embraced me with a small kiss on the mouth.  
My heart rate was running miles. He rolled over on the floor next to me, allowing me to escape. But you know what the biggest mistake was? I didn't leave his side. We had our first serious conversation where he told me the truth (at least I believe it to be the truth).

"I remember my father's funeral. I only went to make sure he was dead. When I went to see him in his coffin, I remember taking the candle near the casket and lighting my father's lifeless corpse on fire!" He cackled uncontrollably. I saw tears in his eyes from laughing so hard.  
"That's how the whole 'life of crime' thing started..." Joker trailed off.

I lit up a cigarette, took a drag then exhaled. This process continued until I was almost finished. Mr. J pulled one of his many knives out of his violet jacket pocket.

He turned to me with his devilish grin and said, "Ya know, those things'll kill ya."

"Yeah, if you don't get there first." I replied.

I pressed the lit cigarette against the inside part of my forearm, leaving another scar in the making. Joker stared as I lifted up the cig butt off of my arm and lay back down against the wall, breathing violently. He grabbed the cigarette and stuck the end of it against his tongue, extinghuishing it.

"Did I cause you to do that?" He asked silently.

"No, it's an old habit." I told him.

I studied his features: his chisled jaw and nose, makeup coating his fair skin down to his neck, his mop of hair that was currently slicked back, but oh God who could forget those eyes. Mr. J's eyes were different than typical eyes: he had remarkable eyes that were filled with so much knowledge and had the ability to see through a person's soul. They also contained an incredible amount of pain, like a child's. Was it a crime to feel a sense of sympathy for this breathtaking creature?  
Some odd wave of emotion passed over me, like I was possessed by another entity. Well, that or my immense vulnerability. I stole the my cigarette from his fingers, tossed it, and pinned him down. My legs wrapped around his waist. I stroked his green mess of hair, lowered myself to J's eye level and softly brushed my lips onto his. I pressed my tongue on his, further entwining us in my embrace. My arms wrapped around his head. I wanted to protect him from all the danger he endured everyday while stealing, shooting, and killing. I feel safe with him. He was my protector now. Joker pushed deeper into the kiss as his hands searched my body. He began to slowly run his hand along my thigh and up my black skirt.

"Oh no...please." I told him, barely breaking the kiss.

He moaned and wanted to keep going farther. I extracted my tongue from his mouth and gazed into his eyes once more.

"No not now. Please don't do this." I pleaded.

"Harley, Harley, Harley, you are such an uncorrupted child," he said while nuzzling my neck. "I think we should put a halt to that." He began to chuckle while biting my ear.

"No, I won't give into you." I hissed, with arms crossed.

"In time." he retorted while smiling his sinister grin.

"Walk me to my room?" I asked with my best doe-eyes.

Maybe that will get his mind out of trying to get in my pants. I attemped to get off of Mr. J without breaking a heel or exposing my undergarments.

"You should wax down there." He critiqued as he snuck a peek at my nether regions.

Too late, I guess. He wrapped his arm around my waist and we proceeded to the large double doors somewhere down the hall. He rested his head on mine and inhaled my light perfume. As we passed through the door, Joker's guards whistled and unruly cheered at us. Mr. J took matters into his own hands by flashing them the good old fashioned obscene hand gesture. He opened my door for me with his hand extended.

"Ladies first." he called. What a gentleman.

I rolled my eyes and strolled into my room simultaneously pulling off my shoes. I flopped onto my bed and looked up at him.

"Well my visit was cut short, don't you think?" I asked.

"I thought we were just continuing it in your room, Harl." He whispered as he sat beside me on the bed.

"I don't think..."

"C'mon Harley! I'm horny, your horny! What's that one thing a boy and girl could do to pass the time away?" Joker purred in my ear.

"I'm not going to be your fuck buddy, okay?" I lied sternly. I did love him but I didn't want a physical relationship

"Christ! You were the one who started this shit! You're being really fucking childish, Harl!", J said as he paced.

"I'm childish? You still play with guns that shoot little 'BANG!' flags!" I argued.

"You tease!" He spit out, grabbed my face, and suddenly his lips came crashing onto mine.

"Ooh!" I moaned. I wanted this so badly. I wanted to be loved. He grinded against me as I accepted his tongue in my mouth. I began to slide off his jacket. I pulled his tie towards me while Joker began to run kisses along my neckline. When he saw that I had cut DIRT into my inner forearm, he ran his tongue along each letter as a sort of comfort for my pain. He felt my back and tried to undo my zipper. I took him by the hands and slipped his gloves off to reveal rough caloused fingertips. He rubbed my exposed back, sending more shivers all throughout my body. I could smell the gasoline and gun powder on his musuclar build. He pulled down my dress, revealing my black lace bra. This was enough to stimulate him and wanting to keep pushing further. Joker trailed kisses along my chest as I unbuttoned his plum shirt while my legs wrapped around his waist. We were both breathing heavily and becoming intoxicated by eachother.

"I can't..." I whispered into his ear.

Joker took my face in his hand and stared into my blue eyes. He pushed two strands of hair behind my ear and kissed my forehead.

"Trust me." He cooed.

"Dammit, why can't I say no to you?" I blurted out.

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